Mengele's Legacy
by Kyron
Summary: Based on a true story from WWII.  Mengele tested and tortured twins that were brought into the concentration camps.  Now, another, called the Creature, is performing similar experiments.


_MENGELE'S LEGACY_

Was there ever a time where pain didn't exist? Was there a time where the cold wasn't so oppressive? Was there once a place where fear didn't govern their existence?

Bells tolled in the early morning. He didn't want to wake up. He just wanted to retreat into his own mind and find solace from the pain and never come back. How many times has that thought gone through him? How many chances has he had to just act upon them? Why didn't he?

Another toll from the bell, he still didn't move. A feather light touch on his arm, a weak nudge and a quiet plea. A voice so broken that the slightest sound caused his own spark to tear wide open. He wanted to just die every single time he heard it. But he couldn't. Not yet.

Blue optics, once so full of pride and life, now dulled with agony. No hope. No life. Full of fear and worry. He saw these same optics every morning now. He understood. He'd woken his other half many times with the same look on his own face. It's a frightening expression…one half born of fear for the other's safety…the other half, hope that they don't wake up. Heartless, right? No. Not at all.

The still prone being began moving, not looking the other in the face. He didn't want to see the next look. It was always part relief and part disappointment. And it didn't change…

Carefully, he rose from his battered mat on the floor, letting the other steady him when his body trembled. Another insistent toll from the bell. The two moved at a slow and pained pace towards the door and then outside.

The horizon gave a faint glow, sunrise still hours away. The air was cold and damp, foretelling of rain. That suited him fine. Lately it had been so scorching hot that he felt his fluids would boil. It would have been preferable for it could easily put him out of his misery. There was a light brush of the other's shoulder as he turned to stand in line, same as they always did.

Oh but they were a pitiful sight. Armor that used to glisten with the slightest light now scuffed and dull. Many pieces were busted or missing, exposing the delicate pieces they'd been designed to protect. He gave the other a glance, optics immediately brought to bear upon the gaping hole in his throat. It hadn't always been like that…had it? He couldn't remember anymore. Somehow, he knew, his brother wasn't supposed to look so…despairing. Sometimes, he wondered what it was like before they'd come to this place. He knew there had to be somewhere before here. They must have done something terrible to end up here in this horrible place, he and his brother. Yes. He knew the other was his sibling, his twin. But for the life of him, he couldn't recall the darker one's name. Or even his own.

The echo of the final bell toll was the only sound that disrupted the quiet morning. The line was shorter than it was yesterday. He'd noticed that happening a lot lately. It made his insides clinch at the thought that the one beside him would be next.

He didn't have time to dwell on anything any further as the sounds of feet shuffling across the grainy ground approached. He tore his gaze from his brother and stared straight ahead. Everyone in line did. It was what they were supposed to do, after all. The Creature stopped a few feet from the scraggly line. It's eyes scanned each individual without any real care. They were, after all, It's projects. Each bore an alien symbol on their arms. The symbol indicated their "number". All The Creature had to do was determine which "subjects" he wanted today.

The two held back involuntary cringes as The Creature's eyes lingered on them. The eyes were so emotionless, solid black and beady. The Creature itself was ungainly looking. It had four legs, each ending in a three toed hoof. It's single "hand" that bore three digits, but they could inflict pain beyond belief.

The Creature let its gaze linger on his brother a mere moment longer than the others and the first felt something lurch deep inside.

'…not again…please…' he thought, his body betraying nothing.

It always happened this way. The darker of the pair was a favorite pick for the morning rounds. And he always came back from the "sessions" nearly dead or wishing that he was. Oh, how he'd be so weak…it was pitiful. There was always this look in his optics…one that begged his brother to kill him, to let it end.

He never could. Who knew how many times he wanted to try. He'd come back from several sessions himself with the same desires. Yet both were still here. Both were still alive. Neither knew how long the other had. Never knowing. It was reality for them now. Eventually, one or both of them would die in this place. No one knew them, they didn't even know themselves anymore. There was no hope, no escape. Just pain and death.

Sometimes, one of them would dream. They would dream of a place where there was nothing and yet it was everything. They called it the Sanctuary. It was whispered around the camp that the Sanctuary was what you dreamed off shortly before you ceased to live. Your soul would then fly to the Sanctuary and be at peace. This Sanctuary is barren and desolate. But in the dreams there is no pain, no fear, thus making it a much better place than here. And they could still be together.

The Creature's high pitched and scratchy voice resounded over the small group of beings in the yard.

The numbers rolled out of it's mouth like venom.

114, 172, 109, 93...

He felt his entire being sink with the last number. His brother had been chosen yet again. He could feel his twin's trembling from the scant few inches that separated their shoulders. He felt his own body match it in rhythm.

The creature looked at the remaining twins and barked off the duty orders for the day while his chosen subjects moved towards the laboratory. He could do nothing but watch as his brother trudged slowly along, limping painfully and trying valiantly to hide it. His brother gave him one quick glance before disappearing beyond the labs door.

Hours passed. He did his assigned work as he was supposed to. As often as he could, he took a quick glance towards the laboratory, afraid to wonder if his other half would be walking out or if he'd be carted out to be placed with the dead in the ditch a short distance away. No one came nor left from the building since the morning roll call. But you could sometimes hear the screams of those who were selected. It was almost comforting to know that he couldn't hear his brother scream as his voice had been gone for as long as he dared to remember.

The suns rose to their apex and had already begun the descent below the horizon. The bells began tolling, signaling the end of the day. He moved with what was left of the small crowd towards the rations tents, stashed what rations he could, and made his way back to the boarding buildings.

It was well after dark before he heard the door to the building open. He didn't move, just watched and waited. If he was wrong, and it was The Creature as opposed to his brother, it could mean his own death if he moved. Familiar footfalls, an all too common limp and the sounds of liquids splattering across the floor met his audios as the injured mech made his way to his bunk. The first hurriedly but quietly left his bunk and moved to his brother's side.

Oh, his brother was a mess. One arm hung limply at his side and seemed…wrong…like it was facing the completely wrong direction. His optics were different as well, like the color had faded from them. The back of his helm had been removed, allowing the delicate circuitry there to be exposed to the elements. The plating around one of his knees, the leg that limped, had been removed and the wires had been purposefully crossed.

A strangled whimpering sound met the first twin's audios. His brother was looking at him, that pleading expression of pain and weariness on his countenance. Oh, the pain he must be in…and yet, the first couldn't do as his twin asked. And his brother knew that.

Cautiously, he helped his twin lie down on the bunk, trying to be as gentle as he could. His brother only gave a pained hiss as he moved. And so began the nearly ritualistic routine of finding the most prominent of wounds and the most basic of repairs they could do while siphoning the hidden rations to keep the darker one alive for just a while longer.

The next turns would not be easy on either twin. Number 93 was called constantly and 94 was next. The Creature had found something he liked in the pair of them and decided that they were worth a lot more It's time. There had been many days where both twins would miss rations and when they didn't, they felt too sick to even try to keep anything down.

More time passed and eventually, neither twin could rise from their respective bunks when the morning bells tolled. Both lay there as the last of the bells ceased it's ringing and they waited. They knew they would not survive this day but neither one had the strength left in them to fight it off. Thus, when the door was flung open and both brothers were roughly pulled outside, neither resisted. Each was pinned up to the outside wall, wrists bound in chains, and each was flogged. Neither made a sound as their vocalizers had been removed by The Creature. Neither squirmed under the pain of the energy whip as it tour into the plating on their backs over, and over, and over. Fluids dripped freely from the wounds, falling and mixing with the dry ground at their feet, creating a delicate and beautiful blend of colors as their life force poured from them.

Neither felt like living anymore.

But both knew they would survive this flogging. The Creature had ordered that none would die under the Punisher's hand. They knew their time was not now. But, oh how they wished it was.

They'd been released after their punishment. The Creature saw fit to "pity" them this day and had them, quite unceremoniously, dumped back in their bunks. This is where they remained. Even when the bells started tolling early before crashing to a sudden stop, even when the sounds of engines and strange voices met their audios, as the sounds of explosions resounded across the compound, as the sounds of strangers footsteps approached their building…

Neither moved. The strangers came in, spoke in languages both knew but didn't understand. Neither cared. They still didn't move when one of the strangers touched them, probed at open wounds. Neither could register that the touches did not inflict more pain for neither could feel any more pain. They just lay there, the raspy sounds of the other's intakes was the only sounds that they registered. Everything else was ambient noise to them.

He shouldn't be alive. Both he and his brother should be floating in the oblivion of the Sanctuary. Not here. But he didn't recognize "here" either. Perhaps they were in the Sanctuary…just not the one from their dreams. He shifted slightly, wincing as a stab of pain laced through his frame. He heard a yelp from somewhere close and immediately paused. No one should ever utter a sound of pain for it always brought more. Who had it been? Surely it wasn't him…was it?

Footsteps. Heavy ones. Unfamiliar. And they were heading towards him. He felt his breathing quicken and he felt a strong desire to get away. Hastily, he began pulling his limbs, ignoring the pain that hit him with each movement. But he couldn't move…his arms and legs were strapped to the table. Just like how the Creature liked to experiment.

The footsteps approached more quickly and he suddenly found another being next to him. He didn't look. It was another Creature, it had to be. He heard it start talking, a calm tone to it's voice that he'd not heard from anyone before. Still, he wanted loose, needed to move. He kept pulling, feeling his own cables cramp and strain as he tried to free himself.

An exclamation from the New Creature and suddenly, his limbs were freed. Stunned, he didn't move for several moments, the unfamiliar treatment making his mind reel. He felt the fluids begin to flow from freshly opened wounds, he felt the familiar stinging of various injuries as they began to pulse and voice their complaints. And he ignored them as he usually did.

The voice started to talk again, just as close as before and just as calm. Still, he did not look. There was just too much going on for him to concentrate fully. Where was he? What was this Creature doing? Where was his brother?

The last question broke his self revere and he inhaled sharply. Optics online, he frantically began tossing his head around in every direction it could turn, searching for some sign of his darker half.

Somewhere. He had to be here somewhere. Where? Where was he? The first tried to sit, feeling components complain at the movement, but his strength didn't hold out. He felt himself lean and fall, rolling and hitting the floor with a resounding crash. Another whimper was heard and he ceased moving, listening. There was another sound, a soft keening noise that he immediately recognized. He twisted his body, ignoring the pains that shot up and down his frame, until he saw the darker figure huddled into the nearest corner.

His brother sat, as small as his frame would allow, in the dark corner. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. Blue optics locked with blue and they just stared at each other. They were both alive. And, somehow, this was disappointing. The first put up no protest when two others lifted him up and put him back on the table he'd fallen from. There were no sounds made from either of the twins as the calm voice took on a sterner tone. They expected more pain. They were ready for more pain. But none came as he was lulled off-line.

Sideswipe woke with a start, intakes heaving and his cooling systems working over time to keep him from overheating. He scrambled up to a sitting position, trying to gather his wits back about him. Sunstreaker sat on the top bunk with him, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around himself and his back to the wall. He didn't even look when his brother woke, he didn't have to. He already knew.

It had been so long since the nightmares had surfaced. So long since they'd been found on Teket 4. Sideswipe remembered everything. Everything from his own former silver coloring to his brother's dark blue, from the other sets of twins that went through all the same unimaginable tortures, he remembered their faces but never names. He didn't even know his own true name. Both his and Sunstreaker's names had been lost long ago.

He remembered being found by the Cybertronians. Ratchet and Prowl were the first mechs either one met when they came back online after nearly dying several times over. Lost, alone and afraid. They'd been told later that a tip had led the Galactic forces to the small and isolated planet in the Shan'aa system. They'd found out later that their creator had sold them off into slavery to save face with his alliances on Cybertron when the pair was barely a cycle old.

But they'd gotten better, fought harder, rising in the ranks as the two most elite melee fighters that the Autobots had in service. Now they could see it all crashing down on them again.

Too much had changed too fast. The fall of Autobot City to the rising of Unicron. So many friends now lay dead in the remains of a misbegotten shuttle, including the two that saved them so long ago. A new leader, a new mission and all the same old battle wounds.

The red twin sat trying to calm his systems down but seeing his brother in that position brought his nightmares right back. He hated waking up to that. Sunstreaker's frame was trembling slightly when Sideswipe moved to sit next to him. Without a word, each twin leaned against the other's shoulder and neither moved until dawn.


End file.
